


Deep Waters

by d_aia



Series: Segments [2]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Aphasia, Disabled Character of Color, F/F, Harry as Arthur, Injury Recovery, M/M, POV Harry, Temporary Character Death, V-day Consequences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 04:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3555794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_aia/pseuds/d_aia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”</p>
<p>“As I am a tailor and not a mind reader, I shall go with: I have no idea,” James said smugly.</p>
<p>Harry ignored the sass and asked with no small amount of amazement, “A psychologist?!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep Waters

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters and locations are not mine.
> 
> Warnings: They are in the tags (Graphic Violence, Aphasia, Injury Recovery, Disabled Character of Color, V-day Consequences). Please read them so you won't be triggered. 
> 
> Last Time on Segments: Harry lives and Eggsy finally finds out after eight months. Merlin is a paranoid bastard, though he has his reasons and Eggsy's chip on the shoulder may be more justified than Merlin initially thought. Also, Roxy fails to complete a mission, through no fault of her own, and that doesn't make her any less of a badass. If you want any more details you are going to have to read it :).
> 
> Notes: I named the tailor James before this whole thing with the other Lancelot started and I'm going with it. Also, I would like to thank Alexandra and [red-wasabi89](http://http://red-wasabi89.tumblr.com//) for listening to me gush about Kingsman and my ideas for it. Thank you! Oh and if someone remembers the tailor's name from the movie, please tell me, I'd really appreciate it!
> 
> Minor edits done on July 6th, 2015.

Harry woke up with a shudder. He blinked, stunned by his surroundings. The white walls and the noisy machines gave away his location: he was in a hospital. But how did he survive? The last thing he remembered was his head exploding in pain. His memories were quicker than the nurses, rushing in like a torrent of guilt and disbelief. He was curious about what could have possibly happened so he lifted his arm to feel his head. Or at least tried. By the time a doctor entered the room with said nurse in tow, he was panicking. He couldn’t get his body to listen to him. His limbs were mostly heavy, non-responsive and if he tried very hard, he could move his fingers, but his movements were jerky, uncoordinated.

“Hello, I am Doctor Marcus and I am your neurosurgeon,” the doctor—Doctor Marcus—said clearly.

“Good…” Harry started, but couldn’t remember the greeting all the way through. He was stuck on trying to remember. What had happened to him? Why couldn’t he remember? It was a… time of day. At the half of the day—in the middle. Morning, evening and… Why couldn’t he _remember_?  It sounded like alphabet. But it wasn’t. And now he couldn’t think of anything except ‘alphabet’. Is he going to stay like his entire life? No, no, he had to take it one step at a time. No matter what. So, it started with… with… He had forgotten.

“Sir!” Doctor Marcus raised his voice, though he kept it even. “Please calm down and listen.”

Harry blinked somewhat owlishly. He noticed that his pulse was raised, like he was running, still increasing and, though he knew in hidden part of his mind that he should calm down, he found it close to impossible. Relaxing was not one of his goals at the moment, getting answers was because he was fine and then he got shot in the head; and then he lived; and then he lost everything that made him Harry Hart.

“Sir,” Doctor Marcus said again, “I’m gonna have to sedate you. Please, calm down.”

Taking a couple of deep breaths, Harry gave Doctor Marcus a defying glare. His pulse seemed to stabilize, but it didn’t go any lower. He was hoping the look was enough to show that it was as far as it would go without any answers.

Doctor Marcus nodded. He seemed to have been expecting Harry’s behavior. “You have been shot,” Doctor Marcus waited for Harry to nod, before continuing, “and are now in a hospital in Kentucky. That happened three days ago. The bullet grazed your skull, without touching the brain, but the concussive force was so large that the brain swelled and we had to drill into your skull in order to give it space. At the moment, the swelling has almost gone down. You will notice difficulties in limb movements. I am detecting a speech impediment. Unfortunately, we do not know the full symptoms as it differs from one person to another. It’s also too early to think about the recovery process. The best plan is to take it easy, be hopeful and rest.”

Harry intellectually knew that were worst things than being dead. But he didn’t _know_. And this was a hell of a way to find out. ‘Be hopeful’. That was… ‘really fucking good’ as Eggsy would say.

Shit, Eggsy.

Harry… he couldn’t deal with that yet.

*

Harry read through a file on a new mark. She was an internet billionaire that had many connections and influence with the new wave of similar minded rich young people. They were considering the best way of sending someone in, but in order to build a rapport with the target they needed to spare an agent for at least a year. They couldn’t afford it at the moment.

“When are the agents going to meet the new Arthur?” Merlin asked patiently from where he was sitting at the same table, typing away at his computer.

It had been four months since he was shot. Apparently, Harry was a lucky man for a couple of reasons, beyond the obvious. Firstly, that Doctor Marcus was visiting him at the moment Valentine engaged the device. Secondly, that the same doctor didn’t have the time to acquire said SIM card. When it was activated—fortunately far enough from Doctor Marcus to not completely affect him—the doctor locked the door to the room when everybody went crazy. Then moved Harry in the bathroom and locked them both in. It turned out to be necessary, since the head-nurse threw the pediatric surgeon through the door. They were safe simply because no one knew they were in the bathroom.

“As soon…” Harry took a deep breath. He couldn’t remember. It was right there, hanging in front of him and he couldn’t… He forced himself to look for another way of phrasing it. “When I will be able to say the right words.”

Merlin, used to Harry’s aphasia problems, waited him out and continued as if nothing had happened. “Even Galahad?”

Harry sighed. This discussion tired him. “What do you want me to say to him? And who…” he changed tracks again, made sure the new words fit, “am I to be—Harry, Arthur, _Galahad_?”

“That you’re alive,” Merlin said and aimed a disapproving look at him. “And you just have to be yourself.”

“Yes?” Anger tickled into his tone despite Harry’s resolve to stay calm. Merlin, after all, was right and Harry was in the wrong here. The distinction didn’t help him any and he found himself bringing his arms to his chest protectively. He smoothly turned the movement into delicately bringing forth his cufflinks. “I don’t suppose you know who that is, for those of us who seem to have…” he found it, he found the word, “trouble locating him.”

“I don’t have a taste for philosophy, Arthur,” Merlin warned. “He knows and cares for you. You need to tell him you’re alive.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think I do anything but resemble the person he knew and cared for,” Harry said softly. It wasn’t the exact phrasing he had first thought about, though it was as close an approximation as possible in the circumstances. He had wanted to say that… With a blink, Harry realized that he had forgotten what he had first thought of saying.

*

Harry was having a good day. Generally, his movements got better after the first month or so and, by exercising daily, he increased his strength. He had more problems with flexibility, but that part was just like any other injury—when he broke his bones or got stabbed or blown up. Now, talking… that was a little harder. He chose to think of it as ‘good days’ or ‘bad days’. Today had been a ‘good day’, his words came to him or he didn’t get caught in the search for them and he exchanged them for others easily. He had been having them more and more often the past month. It was refreshing, to know for sure that he could recuperate. Sure, the doctors were optimistic, but nobody could say for certain. It had been eight months last week, and he was pleased to be making progress.

With Harry’s recovery going more on less on schedule, he could focus a greater part of his attention on other things. Like keeping Kingsman running smoothly. And the world. Honestly, he had expected his own loss of control in the church to affect him more. But it didn’t. It was overshadowed, in the events that followed. Harry had protected people for a good 26 years and he did it by seduction and stealing, certainly, but he also did it by killing. If his hand was forced, he would have killed the people in the church. And Valentine forced his hand. It was that simple.

The fact that he chose to focus on himself, that he accepted so readily an explanation and then moved on… that was much more guilt inducing. It made him uncomfortable in his own skin, like he didn’t fit anymore. He had nightmares about Eggsy berating him for his lack of remorse. Harry would scream and scream about how bad he felt, but Eggsy would just shake his head sadly, breaking Harry’s heart in the process.

Others were also about Eggsy, he would be sitting somewhere different every time, cuddling with the damn pug and Harry would try reach for him and fail every time. Then Eggsy would turn, hug the dog harder and say that Harry wasn’t good enough to join him. What was worse, when Harry woke he couldn’t even contradict Eggsy. After all, Eggsy couldn’t even stand to kill his dog for something that he had worked towards, for something that was his only chance of getting himself out. There was a part of Harry that said that Eggsy was the reason most of the world leaders were gone after losing their heads, but that sole voice was drown out by the guilt.

James twitched. “Stop sighing.”

Harry raised his eyebrow, came back to the present—the fitting room—and gave James an inquiring look.

Glaring and snapping his measurement tape, James said prissily, “No. You do not get to look at me like I am the one causing a commotion for no reason. I need you to stay still. _Which you did not do._ So, I am acting accordingly.” He gave a decisive nod and turned to violently grab a piece of chalk.

The next few minutes were spent in silence, Harry still reeling from the Kingsman tailor’s outburst—or the closest to it the calm man ever came. He was sure he needed to apologize, but he couldn’t figure out a way to do it without aggravating the man any further. The silence persisted.

“You know what you need?” James idly asked. Harry felt it was better to let James continue without his input. And sure enough, James continued in a lilting voice, “You need something that… makes people communicate better. A person, more likely. Another Kingsman agent, for certain. A different one.”

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“As I am a tailor and not a mind reader, I shall go with: I have no idea,” James said smugly.

Harry ignored the sass and asked with no small amount of amazement, “A psychologist?!”

“A Kingsman psychologist.” James stopped and turned to look Harry in the eye. “Are you telling me it is not necessary?”

The Kingsman agents that were out of the country were not contacted by Chester as he did not have the time to visit and poison each and every one. So they were summarily left to handle the situation as they would. Then, with the global population drastically decreased and the world reeling, even if Kingsman agents died, he would have the time to build Kingsman anew with his pick of the posh families. The only ones in the country were Lancelot and Merlin. A field agent and the handler. Chester apparently was surprised by Eggsy and in a fit of remorse, he made Eggsy the offer thus signing his own death warrant. The Kingsman agents left to their own devices were brilliant, as expected, but they lacked a more incapacitating event to lessen their symptoms. In short like any other agency—be it police, military or secret service—they were a mess.

Mordred was contemplating the drop from a skyscraper in Japan for way too long about three days ago; Gawain simply abandoned his mission rather than fight his way through the security guards, about two weeks ago; and Tristan might have had a flashback yesterday—it was hard to tell from the footage, but he was screaming bloody murder and that is not by any definition healthy. Harry, himself, could not convince himself to finally face Eggsy to Merlin’s increasing anger. The others were no different, these were just the incidents from the last month.

Oh, Merlin, Lancelot and E—Galahad, they were apparently in the best shape by comparison. Merlin because he worked all the time and not one could tell the difference. Lancelot had brief bursts of anger which were spent at shooting range or out running, because apparently her family—her father and his new wife—were invited by Valentine and they accepted the invitation. They were among those blown up, but she didn’t have a problem with Eggsy. No, their friendship was stronger than ever. She was furious that they neglected to mention it to her and would have left her to fend for herself. Which was good in a roundabout way, but they couldn’t have known that. And Eggsy. Well, he generally did okay with the exception of his new penchant of shooting targets in the head. Twice. Sometimes three times. The most was five times.

Oh dear.

“Do not sigh,” James threatened.

*

While they were watching Galahad locate a gun runner whose organization was fast gaining ground, Harry thought to bring it up.

“I think there should be another agent at the Kingsman level,” Harry said as carelessly as possible.

Frowning, Merlin turned to him. When Harry didn’t say anything more, Merlin explained, “I am waiting for more details.”

On screen, Eggsy huffed apropos of the target’s useless multi-million dollar security. “Silver suppository, indeed,” he chuckled wistfully when the door gave a ping and opened. 

Harry didn’t know what his face did, but it must have been spectacular, since Merlin growled.  “That was somehow connected to you, wasn’t it?” Merlin said coldly furious.

“We will tell him once we have a new mission for him,” Harry decided then subtly swallowed.

Merlin seemed momentarily satisfied—though Harry knew it was only a pause; Merlin had become very attached to Lancelot and Galahad during their mission to save the world—since he asked, “Details?”

Harry gladly accepted the change of subject and he practically jumped on it, forgetting all about his earlier apprehension. “I was thinking of adding a psychologist to our rank.”

“Codename: The Round Table,” Merlin said sardonically. “We’ll discuss it later.” Galahad had found his target and shot him thrice in the head. “Or now. Now would be a good time too.”

*

Yelling, Harry would have expected. A sad shake of Eggsy’s head or a disappointed look were also responses that, while it would have wreaked havoc on Harry’s heart and conscience, were only natural. What he didn’t expect was what actually happened.

The sheer pain of hearing Eggsy address him as ‘Arthur’ coupled with the cold shoulder, was excruciating, but deserved. The gentleness of Eggsy’s touch, the taste and feel of his lips were exceptionally soothing, heart-warming and guilt-inducing. Harry tried to show Merlin how composed he— _wasn’t_ —was, but he wasn’t able to judge his success due to his own shock.

Now the punch, _that_ he should have expected. But he didn’t. It was more of a signal that he was fine than all the doctors’ prognosis; it was Harry’s absolution. And with it, he was ‘Harry’ again. The sound of his name shouldn’t have to power to render his knees weak with emotion and still…Harry had never been happier to be on the receiving end of a punch.

Unfortunately, they didn’t have any time to talk more about it seeing as Harry was busy ironing out the last details of the long-term mission—the one with the hip billionaire—that they were forced to accept. It was simply too big of an opportunity to miss. The agent who received it was Lancelot—Merlin’s idea—apparently she was one of the few that were not—very—affected by the V-day events, she was patient enough for a mission of this duration and was eager to throw herself in a mission that she had an actual chance to complete. The object of the mission was to seduce the target then to break things off in such a way that would allow good relations to be kept.

After Harry had sent Lancelot to New York, he watched her through successfully seduce the bored billionaire in less than three days until she managed to successfully maintain a steady interest. It seemed like he had blinked at the time Eggsy had called him ‘Harry’ again and now his eyes opened and there was another ambitious organized crime head in Russia who needed neutralizing. These were half-assed missions, but with the sheer number of them and their barely functioning members, Eggsy had to cut off the monster’s head to give time for the state agencies to capture or neutralize themselves. The conclusion: Eggsy was about to leave again soon and they hadn’t talked at all.

“Good afternoon, Galahad,” Harry nodded. “Please take a seat.”

Eggsy smiled cheekily as he saluted, before taking his seat at Harry’s right. “Harry.”

Harry smothered a fond grin. He thought about correcting Eggsy and saying that ‘Arthur’ would be appropriate at work. For about a fraction of a second. Then he remembered how much it had hurt when Eggsy did refer to him as ‘Arthur’ and put that particular line of thought on ice.

“You will be leaving for Russia when your two weeks are up,” Harry said. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if one of their few functioning agents worked himself half to death. That was without considering the any wounds or tiredness that had been accumulated during the mission. Two weeks—it was practically a law.

“You didn’t call me for that,” Eggsy assented in his rough accent. Harry felt an odd fascination with it. It was all bristling sounds, clearly and purposefully enunciated words. Sometimes though, it was like Eggsy got bored and the sounds swelled, only to be interrupted mid-sound and taper off.

“No.” Harry mentally shook himself, he had a job to do; he had even taken the time to build his argument. Though Harry didn’t get very far—Eggsy had proved to be unpredictable—he did have a strategy of sorts: speak simply, directly and deal with the fallout. “I am instituting a new position within the Kingsman. Beside Merlin, the agents and me, we will have a psychologist in our organization. He or she would be trained as a Kingsman agent so you will have to present your candidate.” Harry hurried to finish the explanation when he saw, to his great disappointment, the barely-stifled amusement on Eggsy’s face, “The training will commence in one month’s time.”

“What are you gonna call the new agent?” Eggsy said with a chuckle. “Guinevere?” He smirked then pounced on another subject. “That what happened with me?”

“No, I had two days,” Harry said, irritated and hiding it.

Eggsy nodded, visibly proud. “I’ll need access to some databases. Is Merlin allowed to help with that?”

Still catching up to the psychologist’s codename being the thing that was joke and not their presence, Harry answered slowly, “I don’t see why not.”

“Mmhmm,” Eggsy said thoughtfully, his mind already on the search. “Anything else?” he asked absent-mindedly.

Harry hesitated. “Are we… alright?”

Startled into paying attention, Eggsy blinked confusedly. “What?”

“We have a somewhat odd relationship,” Harry hedged.

Eggsy apparently had no time or taste for beating around the proverbial bush. “I’d say so. What with you saving me from an 18 months prison sentence _and_ recommending me for a Kingman agent position after speaking to me _one time_ , then your being in a coma and my training which finally resulted in another few scattered conversation which ended in your yelling at me and _disappearing off to die for eight months_ which in turn _changed my life_ , made me run to save the world, kill most of the world leaders and finally succeeding in becoming a Kingsman agent. Then, surprise: _you’re alive_. Yeah, I’d say it’s something else.” He rolled his eyes. “Odd,” Eggsy mocked.

“I find that I often consider your what your opinion would be before reaching a decision. Often times, I think if that is what you would have done. I imagine it would result in a lot of arguments. And I know that comparatively speaking, we have not spent a lot of time together... But, well, your great influence on my behavior certainly cannot be explained by the time spent in your presence,” Harry declared softly.

Wide-eyed, Eggsy brought his hands up to his mouth. They lowered almost immediately, but the awe-stuck expression took a little longer. “Bruv,” he said almost desperately, accent thickening. “That was the most…” Eggsy took a deep breath, “that somebody said to me… That—” he swallowed, “—was crazy.” His voice wobbled and changed accents into one more similar to the way he spoke on his mission, “Quite the declaration.” Then, back again at the harsh accent, “Do you even realize how that would be understood?” Eggsy was clearly bewildered. He rose. “You must have not realized it. I’m gonna go now. Yup.”

Harry watched steadily as Eggsy was out the door in a blink. It was true, he hadn’t thought it through, but that didn’t mean that it was less than truthful or that he had any regrets. He was surprised when not too long after, the door opened again and Eggsy came back in. He leant against the door, using it as a support.

“I changed my mind,” Eggsy announced needlessly.

Wearily, Harry studied him.

“It’s the same for me,” Eggsy admitted, making it harder to breathe for Harry. “About the influence—I feel the same. And, for the other thing, I think we’re getting there.” Eggsy nodded once and exited the room with something akin to dignity in the set of his shoulders and in the certainty of his measured steps.   

Now, if only Harry could figure out how to wipe the delighted smile off his face before Merlin showed up and everything would be perfect.

*

“I couldn’t have been followed!” Eggsy said furiously. “I drove here!”

That would have been a nonsensical sentence for anybody else, but to Harry and Merlin meant that it was indeed unlikely that the henchmen had followed Eggsy to the Russian airport, after he had managed to neutralize his target—their boss.

“I got close to them: that chat I had with that kid back there, they were behind me and I could hear them talking. And they knew!” Eggsy ranted. “How could they possibly—” He stilled, glaring at himself in the airport’s bathroom mirror, face darkly set and mouth curled in one corner.

Harry saw Merlin freeze, eyes widening. 

Eggsy suddenly chuckled bitterly, sounding a little strained to Harry’s ears. “I made a mistake.” Merlin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, while Eggsy continued, sounding more and more genuine, “Fucking lights, I must’ve missed one. I wasn’t paying attention. They didn’t follow me—they already knew where I was going.” Eggsy took a deep breath, sounding like something was weighing heavily on him. “Fuck! That’s—Let’s not ever talk about, yeah?”

Merlin seemed to relax as soon as Eggsy stumbled over his words.

“The mocking will have to wait until I get home,” Eggsy continued, his clenched jaw added to the harsh accent making the words sound painful to say. “Or until I’m dead and buried and you lot are telling funny stories at my funeral. Since it can’t be long coming. Shit! Galahad out.”

Eggsy stuffed his glasses in his bag, without giving Merlin the chance to answer. Harry personally thought it was a bit of a dramatic gesture. But then again he remember some mistakes he had done in his youth—how they made it seem like he would never be good enough for the position as a Kingsman; how it had seemed that death was just around the corner. His—imagined—short life-span had been the reason behind his passion for insects. They lived comparatively little, but they accomplished so much and all without being noticed.  The next few years, for every mission completed, every time he had survived, he had acquired a new dead insect for his gruesome display—which Mr. Pickles eventually joined. It kept him from falling into the pit of arrogance. Eggsy would learn in time.

“I can’t find him on the airport cameras,” Merlin announced irritated a moment later. “I can’t even tell if he left the bathroom or not.”

And because the glasses were a camera, a microphone and a sound conductor which transferred the vibrations to his ear, there was no way they could ask Eggsy.

“Find the people after him,” Harry decided. “I’ll give him a call once we know where they’re heading.”

Studying his clipboard and the mirror, Merlin frowned. Moving through the footage, they saw the men exiting the same bathroom Eggsy had used, looking around. He obviously wasn’t still there. “I think they lost him.” The men headed for the gate which handled the departure to London—where Eggsy should have been, but wasn’t. “How did they know? Did he say anything?”

“Possibly,” Harry allowed grudgingly. “It was bound to happen at some point.” That meant almost too many mistakes on Eggsy’s part. Harry dialed Eggsy with growing concern.

Eggsy picked up, though there wasn’t any answer.

“Where are you?”

“Going to pick up my candidate,” Eggsy answered cheerily.

Knowing they couldn’t talk on phone as it made Eggsy stand out as obviously British, Harry said, “Have a safe trip.” He hanged up. “He wasn’t at the gate because he’s on his way to get his candidate.”

Which meant that he was going in another country for them. Kingman has only ever had agents from Great Britain. Harry turned to Merlin to find that the man was already watching him. Unpredictable, Harry had thought of Eggsy, but was more like a pain in the ass. Oh, dear.

*

A week later—exactly on time, Merlin took pleasure in specifying—Eggsy was back. With him, according to Merlin, was a thirty-seven Aboriginal Australian with a missing leg. Harry would later find out that his was amputated above the knee. All he realized at that moment was the person who Eggsy regretted killing most on V-day. Harry couldn’t find in himself to blame him. After all, Merlin had shown him the footage and Gazelle had been quick, decisive, almost lethal.

The problem with that, as Harry could testify for himself, was when one chose somebody purely for their resemblance to someone else, they didn’t really _see that somebody_ for whom they were, weaknesses and strengths. He was looking for a way to object, but he was stuck on the phrasing. Everything sounded too much like Chester for comfort. Luckily, the man interrupted the awkward silence.

“He flattered me.” The man shrugged. “Told me you need me.”

“It will be difficult,” Harry warned. “Though not impossible.”

The man nodded. “He winked,” he said like that would miraculously explain everything.

Apparently it did, because Merlin let out a grunt and reached for the man to give him a strong pat on the back. “I know, son. I’ve been there.” Merlin took custody of the candidate and headed in the direction of the training centre.

Harry turned his inquiring gaze on Eggsy. “I do not.”

With a laugh, Eggsy stepped closer. “You turned that day when you showed me the equipment. I was very disappointed.” He delicately touched Harry’s jaw line. “Still a strong chin,” Eggsy said fraught with meaning, his blue eyes intent. He finally gave a grin and left.

When Harry finally remembered his exchange with Chester, he was glad Eggsy was gone because given enough time Harry would have said something and made a total ass of himself while doing it. His guilt couldn’t be hidden. He didn’t know how Eggsy found out about the discussion concerning his candidacy—and chose to blame Merlin—but he wasn’t worthy of any praise. A year and he was already seeing the world as Chester did. _No_. He was determined not to fall into the same traps.

“Always a strong chin,” Harry swore.

*

The mission was fucked from the start.

“Something’s wrong,” Eggsy said the moment he stepped off the plane in Mexico.

Merlin and Harry would never know if Eggsy had seen something or he had some kind of instinct because before long he was on the yacht full of henchmen on their way to Contoy Island. Apparently, the local cartel leader somehow found out that Eggsy was an agent of some kind and—though he could have easily escaped from the first four men—in order to get to the leader  he accepted to get on the boat. Clearly, Eggsy didn’t have time to make a mistake and do anything to let his real identity slip, which meant that it was less likely to have made one in Russia and that had consequences they would think about when Eggsy wasn’t in mortal danger.

Eggsy managed to shoot the leader—twice; in the head—through a combination of luck, talent and impressive ability, but he was still on a boat full of angry henchmen with no way out. And though they were hilarious in movies, in real life they were more than fifty men, each capable of thought no matter how stupid their Hollywood counterparts were, furious and looking for Eggsy with deadly intent. Obviously, Eggsy couldn’t swim to safety because they would see him and shoot at him. Even the suit could only withstand so much before it would inevitably be pierced.  What Eggsy intended to do was to use his cufflinks to blow up the whole yacht after jumping into the ocean and swimming a short distance away, then somehow manage to swim his way back onto land although it was still quite a distance. That was presuming, of course, that the depth Eggsy reached and the suit would protect him against the bullets and that the force of the explosion didn’t kill him.

It wasn’t Eggsy’s smartest plan, but it was his best chance. It only took a glance at Merlin to realize that they were grasping at straws: both wanting Eggsy to escape, both too realistic to think that it was actually probable to happen. The hope was soon dashed by certainty when somebody discovered the cufflinks next to fuel tank. It was either that or they sprouted legs and ran from where they were lodged into the lid. Harry sighed. Damn it.

Merlin hesitated. He took a deep breath and said steadily, “Galahad, the cufflinks have been discovered.”

Harry closed his eyes. For a second—for Eggsy, for what he could have become, for the life he could have had. Maybe he still could escape. Somehow.

“I am activating them now,” Eggsy answered. No pause, no hesitation, no regrets. He braced himself on the rail and jumped over, activating the cufflinks.

The force of the explosion, coupled with the jump made the glasses the first to go. They slipped off Eggsy face as he entered the water. Harry couldn’t tell Eggsy’s condition after the jump. A secondary explosion could be heard.  On the screen, the glasses blinked in and out. Finally they landed. There was no sign of Eggsy. The tracker ceased to function after three minutes. After ten minutes had passed, Merlin and Harry still sat in silence. Their attention focused on one centimeter of dark water and even darker sand.

Merlin’s fist hit the table with an echoing bang. “Fuck!”

Harry was frozen. Eggsy meant more to him than anyone should after so little time. They only spoke a few times. And still… Harry had told Eggsy the truth: he could hear Eggsy’s words in his head; he found himself wanting to rise to Eggsy standards; he accepted Eggsy’s values next to his own; Eggsy’s opinions made Harry question himself and work more to reach a satisfying conclusion. In short, Harry was changed after meeting Eggsy. And now—Fuck! Michelle Unwin. It was his duty to announce her that her son was… missing. Dead. After he practically destroyed her life the first time when he told her about her husband, now he was going to it again. Only worse.  

This was the first time Harry actually realized the danger he had placed Eggsy in by his selfish need to repair what he had broken. Harry should have given him money to go to a good school and he could have made Dean disappear and he could have made sure that the family moved and got Eggsy a job that didn’t involve putting him in danger. There were so many other things he could have done, Harry just didn’t think about them. _He just didn’t think_. Why had never imagined this happening? How could he have been so blind?

“What the—” Merlin suddenly said. He began typing up a storm. “I’m being hacked!” he said incredulously.

Harry blinked and came back to the present. Enough with the self-pity, work called. He took a deep breath and watched Merlin. Harry was waiting to receive more details.

“There are two of them,” Merlin announced and gave a short, enraged shake of his head. “Both are accessing Eggsy’s last location. That’s the only reason I caught them.” He lifted his head to look at Harry desperately, lowering it in a hurry not being able to hold Harry’s eyes. “One is logged in _Roxy’s_ account and the other is… me.” And he was off like a shot.

Harry followed him to the lift, out of HQ through the train, through corridors and finally to his office, things slowly began to slide into place. There was no one there—as expected. They would have to check on the footage, though he doubted that somebody could have sat at Merlin’s desk and not erase it. But all that was for later. What he wanted was a little clarification.  

“Eggsy didn’t make a mistake.” Harry’s eyes widened. He hadn’t meant to say that. Ever since the accident, it was a bit harder to censure himself and it just popped out. “We have a traitor who’s been selling information on Eggsy.” Didn’t mean to say that, either. Well, moving forward. “And we have no idea what else he could have said.”

“In the bathroom at the airport, he thought we were the traitors.” Merlin didn’t have an excuse. “He probably still does. Did.”

“Eggsy told Lancelot,” Harry said ignoring the changed tense. “He must have, otherwise there wouldn’t be any reason for her to hack us.”

Merlin frowned and turned to the computer. “If she was the one who hacked us, she’s in Mexico. Very close to Galahad actually, Cancun.”

Harry took that in. “So Eggsy might possibly…”

“Be still alive,” Merlin finished. “Yes, he might.”

“They might be together.”

“Yes.”

“Thinking that we betrayed them.”

Merlin crossed his arms. “Yes. And they are trained and dangerous and have gone to great lengths to do what was needed in the past.”

Harry gave a short nod. “Meanwhile, we have a traitor to catch: one that had managed to infiltrate our system without us—most of us, anyway—catching on; one that is most definitely a  Kingsman agent otherwise they would have been trapped in your office.”

“Mmhmm.” Merlin avoided his eyes. “You got it.”

“Well then,” Harry declared, giddy at the possibility of Eggsy being alive. Everything else they could fix. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you want to comment (or just talk to me) you can do it here or on my [tumblr](http://e-alexandrescu.tumblr.com/).


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